


Falling (in Love) Damage: The Worst Damage In Star Wars

by stitchy



Category: Campaign (Podcast), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 19:55:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15468840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stitchy/pseuds/stitchy
Summary: In which Tryst makes an study of Leenik's romance novels in order to impress him. Yes, /that/ Tryst Valentine- the one who can't read.





	Falling (in Love) Damage: The Worst Damage In Star Wars

     Tryst stares into hyperspace as he listens to the recording. If he stays absolutely still and focuses on the vanishing point in the vortex, it’s exactly like falling, like not having wings or an engine, or even a vacuum suit. It’s all pretty words and starlight and a spectacular weightlessness that reminds him of just one other feeling. He catches himself holding his breath, waiting for the inevitable impact. He’s been doing that a lot lately.

     “Beh um see sa weeteebah noleeya doe cheesa, fraan naabah,” reads the guttural voice, trailing off. A musical motif plays to signal the end of the chapter, snapping Tryst out of his trance.

     “Oh for the love of- Neemo can’t ever let ‘em both survive to the end, huh?”

     Three semesters of Huttese taken a lifetime ago gave him a slightly less than adequate understanding of the climactic scene of _Love on an Alien World_ , but it was the only audiobook he could get his hands without hitting up a Barnes & Novas. He’s a sucker for an underdog, and would much rather support an indie business than a big intergalactic chain, even if they couldn’t exactly match his literary needs. With a tap of a button, Tryst pauses the recording and kicks up his heels to sit back and consider the data.

     The two alien lovers had finally reunited in the place where they had first met, though one was mortally wounded, unbeknownst to the other. He croaked as soon as they made a vow to be together until death (of course) and she spaced herself with his remains and promptly exploded. It was unclear from listening to only the final few chapters exactly why Wal Tissfa had been implanted with a detonator programmed to atomize her in the event of decompression, but Tryst isn’t one to question people’s kinks, even if it seemed like narrative overkill. All things considered, this particular Sparksian finale was on the medium-unfavorable end of the list. He can’t see why anyone would read it for pleasure, but it easily beat the unbearable _At Force Sight_. Tryst shudders. _Sight_ was the last audiobook he went through in its entirety before he started skipping to the climactic scenes out of self-preservation.

     Tryst crosses his arms as he contemplates what romantic elements might be worth extracting from this mess. What would Leenik like about it? The symmetry of the ending’s location? It was a nice thought, but they were unlikely to swing near enough to Tatooine to consider a Tell You How I Feel In The Place We First Met grand gesture. That’s why Tryst is subjecting himself to this dreck, after all- it’s supposed to be inspiration.

     All these ‘accidental’ smoochy run-ins are heading towards something sincere and love-shaped, and much like falling into hyperspace, he’s longing to _just get there_ _already_. The thing is, these sudden, steamy interludes never seem to tip over from random impulse to relationship territory like he expects. Obviously they need to talk it out, but there’s always an audience or a proverbial (or literal) lasersword hanging over them and the moment slips away. By now Tryst has realized that if he wants to be with Leenik he has to make the moment himself. So he will! He’s going to sweep Leenik off his feet like in one of his novels, but to do it right... He has to do research. Ugh.

     Tryst toiled through _Dusk on an Alien World_ for the poignant use of flowers- check. _An Ewok To Remember_ , was all about seizing love even if you’re super doomed- check. _The Bespin of Me’s_ climactic organ donation could be homaged with Leenik’s original left hand, still in a tupperware in the freezer- check. Now, _The Datapad_ he sort of liked, but arranging for amnesia on short notice was off the table- no check. _The Space Guardian_... Leenik would absolutely murder him if he poisoned Tony for book authenticity- skull emoji skull emoji skull emoji.

     If only they hadn’t burned so many bridge on their way out of Tatooine. Tryst chews on his lip to keep from grinning like a moron while he imagines leading Leenik to a cozy booth he’d get specially reserved at Chalmun’s. It’s close enough to the bandstand for atmosphere, but private and dimly lit. The table is already set with holocandles and a bouquet, and Leenik’s favorite fizzy drink, occasionally popping off little pink bubbles. When Leenik recognizes his own former hand as the centerpiece of the flowers, Tryst tells him to unclench the fist, revealing the perfectly polished ring inside. Tryst’s imagination runs wild. Is he ready for that? What would Leenik’s reaction be? Would he stutter and start to glitter up those huge bugeyes with tears as he admitted that this was his deepest wish? Or would he blush the loveliest shade of blue as he slips on the ring, and wordlessly fling himself into Tryst’s arms saying only the _yes yes yes_ of an urgent kiss?

     ...Bummer that they would probably be killed on sight if they even step foot in Mos Eisley.

     There were other novel-esque settings he could consider, of course. Maybe he could combine the aquarium from _The Lasat Song_ with a monologue from _Love on an Alien World_ and absolutely destroy that motherkriffer with romance. With a glance over his shoulder to be absolutely sure the cockpit door is shut, Tryst tries rehearsing one of the lines aloud, hand on his chest. How had Wal Tissfa put it?

     “If you’ll have it, I pledge my ‘most delectable meat’ to you?... That can’t be right.”

     Thinking of the translation origin, Tryst becomes a little queasy. What is the phrase implying? Was ‘most delectable meat’ just... Heart? _Do Hutts eat human hearts?!_ Yikes. Don’t think about it.

     “With this mostdelectablemeat,” he says quickly, “-I pledge to love, revere, and never leave.”

     He sighs. Forget the quote. It sounds weird coming out of his mouth and even if it didn’t, Leenik would object here. _You can’t promise that. You’ll die. You’ll die and I’ll go crazy and I won’t come back._

     And Tryst has no idea what to say to that. Of course he’s going to die! Eventually. Probably before Tamlin gets to be their same age. Come to think of it, the closest thing to Happily Ever After he’s heard of in this crappy galaxy is to die, middle-aged, in the same military strike as one’s spouse. Pretty grim! So he needs to keep fine tuning the right thing to say. He still has a few more books to go and he’ll need time to gather some things and scout a location, anyway.

-

     The office of the Fridillian magistrate they’re trying to con offers them refreshments, or rather, offers Fozzie B’er and Link Hogthrob refreshments while they wait. Whoever they are, they’re too famished to refuse. An attendant brings them a tray with a small decanter, local fruit, and some bread before disappearing again, leaving them alone in the reception room. Leenik turns the wine upside down and drinks it in one swig while Tryst stuffs a scone in his mouth.

     Leenik gasps. “What if this is poisoned?”

     “Here, gimme,” says Tryst, spitting crumbs. He holds out his hand for the suspicious vessel.

     “I drank it all!” Leenik squeeks, and drops the bottle. He touches his lips, stained slightly purple by the wine.

     Without thinking Tryst lunges in, taking his friend’s face in both hands and putting them nose to snoot. Instead of a tell-tale whiff of chemicals he gets a sip of Leenik’s breath. The sweet, warm taste does set off an alarm bells in his brain... just not ‘Beware Death!’ ones. He darts the tip of his tongue to the corner of Leenik’s mouth and then traces his lower lip.

     “P-poison?”

     “I don’t... think so,” says Tryst, but he doesn’t pull back. Neither does Leenik. “I can’t be sure.” When he speaks their lips brush.

     “Be sure!”

     As he presses Leenik with a kiss, he is. Then of course, the magistrate walks in.

-

     Over the next few weeks Tryst ups his Cici’s subscription to the Floral Arrangement & Card level and smuggles the flowers past the crew and up into the lizard trees until the time is right. He slowly pilfers holocandles from the other’s bunks and packs everything else he’ll need into one of the jettison compartments so he can access it from outside the ship. He doesn’t have an exact plan of what to say, but he’s pretty sure as long as he gets ‘us’ and ‘forever’ in there somewhere, Leenik will get the picture. He just needs some place to set it all up.

     Before long (but still after two more random kisses), Tryst gets his chance. Bacta and Lyn go to gather some Water of Life on Dathomir for Tamlin to do some Force ritual with, and rather than have the kid where enemies will definitely know to look for him, he, Leenik, and Tamlin go to lay low nearby. With free reign to select their hideout, he finds a tiny moon that makes a decent approximation of the setting of _Nights in Rodia_.

     “This place looks like a dump, Uncle Tryst.” Though Tamlin can barely see over the dashboard from the copilot’s seat, there’s no missing the heaps of garbage that tower around them as they come in for a landing.

     “It’s all about context, bud.”

     It is, in fact, a geo-degrading junkyard meant to offload some of the environmental strain in the Quelli sector. Tryst has no idea why half of Sparks’ books take place in junkyards, other than perhaps a vague sense of a commentary on consumerism. Who knows?

     “Is the smell supposed to disguise us from Inquisitors?” Tamlin asks, pinching his tiny nose. “I thought that was what lizards are for.”

     “It’s supposed to be like a romance thing,” Tryst says, flicking switches. He eagerly vaults out of the flightcouch as soon as the subsystems power down.

     Tamlin grimaces. “Is this one of those things you’ll explain when I’m older?”

     Tryst stops at the cockpit door and leans back against it, arms folded. “I’ll tell you right now, actually. I could use your help.”

     Instantly, Tamlin’s eyes widen and he hops up to stand on the copilot’s seat. “Is this a mission??”

     “You bet!”  
  
     “Should I go get everyone together for a briefing?” He bounces in expectation.

     “No, you’re my point person on this one,” Tryst says, clapping a hand on Tamlin’s shoulder. “I need you to run interference for me while I set up a surprise for Uncle Leenik.”

     Tamlin rubs his hands together. “I love surprises!”

-

     While Tamlin creates a kitchen-based diversion that requires adult intervention, Tryst slips out of the _Mynock_ , unnoticed. He makes his way to the jettison hatch and plugs in his code cylinder to remove the whole thing, stuffed with all the makings of his planned evening. With a groan the compartment peels away from the hull and lands on the ground with a thud. What surface of the moon that isn’t covered with debris is dusky purple, and kicks up a cloud of grime.

     “Gross,” Tryst huffs.

     He lugs the thing as far away from the ship as it takes to go around one of the monumental trash heaps and get out of view of the _Mynock’s_ ramp door. There he finds a narrow, but perilously deep fissure running across the moon’s littered surface. It’s surprisingly scenic. There’s a little peninsula of land on the cliff’s edge that’s clear of debris, and the canyon between piles of scrap allows for a patch of starry sky overhead. The muggy air above the fissure is tinged orange and yellow with the ambient glow of whatever mineral compound allows this moon to geo-degrade the junk left here. It makes for silhouette effect of anything standing at the edge of the cliff. Perfect.

     Tryst cracks open the compartment a meter or so from the edge and pulls out a few throw pillows and a picnic blanket to spread on the ground. It’s one of the ones they picked up last time they visited an ice world, and the only one that didn’t have a second life as a drop cloth for painting. He can still remember how they shivered their way through smuggling kyber out of Ilum before the Empire could get their hands on it. They hauled cargo up from the mines all day and bundled all night. He wasn’t as aware, then, of the heat of Leenik’s thin body wrapped up beside him, or their nearly touching noses burrowed under the covers, but it makes him ache to remember it. There’s always been something electrifying about the moments when it’s just the two of them, but over the years its evolved from the fun buzz of a high-five to a voltage that could fire one of the _Mynock’s_ ion cannons. He doesn’t know how it will play out when and if they get that close again, but he can hope.

     Around the blanket, Tryst carefully places the smuggled flowers and holocandles in an appealing arrangement. Satisfied with his little love nest, he heads back to the ship for a costume change and one final detail. As he rounds the heap concealing view of his set up, he hears a soft growl.

     “Shuttup,” he says to his stomach. “If any one of my body parts should be nervous it is not you.”

     Tryst lowers the ramp into the ship as slowly as possible, so he can be sure the coast is clear before sneaking into his bunk for one of the kimonos Leenik has gifted him. Tamlin must sense him nearby, as he begins he enunciate loudly to cover the sound of Tryst’s footfall.

     “Wait, do you mean cut it in sixths lengthwise, or like this. Or like THIS. OR THIS?”

     In the kitchen, Leenik sighs. “It’s going to taste the same any which way.”  
  
     “Then why don’t we do STAR SHAPES!”

     “...definitely do star shapes.”

     The robe he has picked out is on the longer side of his collection, floaty and soft, and in a hue of amber that perfectly matches his eyes. All along the border is a fussy open-weave detail, creating little peeky holes that glimpse through. It’s probably the classiest thing in his wardrobe, especially since his taste in clothes can best be described as ‘stolen’.

     As soon as Tryst has his boots pulled on again, he tiptoes back down the ramp, grabbing the recycling bin as he passes. Earlier in the day he smashed all the wine bottles and transparisteel containers that weren’t currently in service for puns or Tryst Jars (and one that was, because enough is enough) so they’d be ready to go. With the same care as he took to arrange the rest, he sprinkles out shards in a sparkly path from the _Mynock_ back to the picnic blanket. Tryst thumps the last bit of glass out of the upturned bin, admiring his ingenuity.

     There’s that growl again. But- it’s not from him... it's _behind_ him. He spins on his heel and reaches for his blasters... that he left with his pants and vest.

     "Ah, kriff."

     Unarmed, he comes eye to eye with a hulking creature that has him blocked in with his back to a 70 meter drop. Taller than him by half and just as wide, the thing’s huge, scaly head grumbles as two proboscis on either side weave toward him, sniffing and spitting.

     “Hey now!” Tryst shouts, widening his stance in the way he might’ve warded off a bantha or a wild dewback in the desert as a boy. “Get!”

     The giant thing bellows at him and takes a step forward, forcing him back. Glass crunches under his boots as his feet shift, and he knocks over one of the holocandles by the blanket. As quick as he can, Tryst crouches to grab it and whip it at the monster’s nose. With an ear splitting shriek, the beast rears back a pace and then stamps, shaking the ground under Tryst’s feet. He dips down again to grab two more projectiles and gets off another hit. This time when the thing rears back, Tryst catches a glimpse of movement between it’s stamping legs. It comes down heavily on all fours, closer this time, and knocks Tryst back onto the blanket, bruising his hip.

     “Tryst! What the hell!?”

     Leenik!

     “This is supposed to be a surprise!” Tryst yelps. He tries to get up but the best he can do is prop himself on one elbow.

     A crackle of white energy sparks off behind the beast as Leenik’s cryo whip flies through the air. “For which one of us!?” Leenik shouts. “Did you not ask K.A.T. about hazardous lifeforms before you jumped ship?”

     The lash from behind causes the creature to turn away from Tryst, all six appendages going wild. It backs up in defense, threatening to trample him into paste.

     “Listen, you can maim it, make it your pet- I don’t care,” Tryst calls out. “Just don’t let it squish me before I have a chance to tell you!”

     Leenik’s whip sizzles through the air again and makes a perfect loop around the thing’s head, stunning it viciously. “I’ve got it!” he says. The shock of the freeze whip makes the two proboscis collapse and then the rest of the beast begins to sway.

     Tryst flops to his back, senses flooding with relief. “Ugh, I love you and your dumb exotic weapons,” he sighs.

     He rolls to get his feet under himself again, but not before the monster loses its own footing. Its body falls to the ground with a crack. The earth beneath Tryst’s feet shakes, and then- it’s not really beneath him at all. The weight of the lumbering beast breaks the jutting piece of cliff off from the rest of the rock, sending him scrambling.

     “TRYST!”

     Debris, flowers, and rocks pelt him as he grapples for something, _anything_ to hold on to as he goes over the edge. His hands find the blanket and he grips tight as it catches on something sharp embedded in the cliffside. The creature blurs past him still trailing the crackling whip, it’s fall unbroken. From below he can feel a warm current of air from the moon’s core. Much to his surprise, when Tryst dares to peek down the beast begins gliding on the sulphuric breeze with skin flaps it must have hidden in it’s armpits. It does a lazy loop before landing at the bottom of the crevice to munch on the flowers. It must be here to organic waste, he realizes.

     “Hang on!” Above, a silhouette pops into view. The yellow limned shape of Leenik doesn’t hesitate. Even his antennae seem to strain as he plunges an arm over the edge. “Do. Not. Fall.”

     “I won’t I won’t I wont,” Tryst says. “But if I do...”

     Leenik grits and wraps his robot hand into the closest bit of blanket. One hand over the other, he starts pulling while Tryst does his best to get a foothold. “No,” he shakes his head, eyes closed tight with effort.

     “-I wanted to say...”

     “Not this time,” says Leenik. It’s his final word on the matter, and with a mighty effort, he heaves Tryst to the top of the cliff.

     “-oooffph!”

     They collapse on top of each other in the dust and Leenik’s eyes pop open again, searching. “You didn’t die!” he cries in disbelief. He paws Tryst all over, body, arms, face, making sure he’s really there. “I’m so glad you’re okay!” he says, and then he pounces.

     “Thankmmff.” Tryst one-eighties from fear to glee as he realizes he’s being kissed. Passionately! Pinning him to the ground, Leenik peppers his face and neck in a frenzy. Loathe as he is to stop him, he can’t risk letting this pass without discussion. “Why? Why kissing?” he asks eloquently.

     “You said ‘I love you (andyourdumbexoticweapons)’,” Leenik rambles between kisses. “And then you DIDN’T DIE.”

     “I did! And I didn’t!” As much as he’s enjoying this brush with death, he takes hold of Leenik to still him for a moment. Tryst swallows hard, hyper aware of Leenik’s eyes locked on his. “I know about your brother, and I’ve read the end of all your books,” he tells him. “I know you think that the moment you admit you love someone they’ll be killed in a freak lavaflow or whatever, but buddy- if we just agree to be together forever you’ll die in the lava with me! You’d never even notice I was gone! And if I get killed and you don’t, we know _so many_ assassins. I’ll hire one right now to come murder you if I’m not able to take you down with me. I promise.”

     “Unbelievable,” Leenik says, shaking his head in doubt.

     “That I promise to kill you!?” Tryst starts to push him back so he can get up off the ground. “I’ll go make a call from the ship right now.”

     Leenik stops him, reversing Tryst’s grasp on his wrists and remaining straddled. His eyes narrow. “I can’t believe you _read_.”

     “Duh, audiobooks.” Tryst lets himself be lowered to the ground again, smug. “This whole thing was supposed to be like _Nights in Rodia_ , and _Dusk_ and _Love_ and _Datapad_ and-”

     “You’d really kill me?” Leenik asks, soft and starry eyed.

     “Of course,” Tryst grins. “I’d do anything for you.”

     With that, Leenik smothers him with another kiss, one that lasts. One that Tryst is in no rush to analyze other than: LEENIK YES GOOD.

     Once he’s made his point, Leenik sits back on his heels. “First of all, my sweet, sweet, illiterate Tryst. _Nights in Rodia_ is set on a beach, not a landfill! Wait a minute.” Leenik waves at the debris on the ground. “What’s with the glass trail?”

     Tryst sits up and scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “Yeah, the books were in Huttese but it wouldn’t shut up about the wind blowing around glass in _Dusk_. I thought if you liked it so much-”

     Leenik interrupts, laughing so hard he falls over. “It’s definitely petals scattered everywhere in _Dusk_ ,” he wheezes. “You know like, _forty percent_ of the nouns in Huttese are homonyms, right?!”

    Tryst grumbles. “I had flowers and holocandles and our nicest blanket too, ya know.” He stands up and dusts himself off before offering the still giggling Leenik a hand off the ground. He pulls him right into his arms and wraps around his middle. “It was really nice, if you ignored the garbage.”

     “Is that where all my stuff went?” Leenik’s snoot scrunches in contempt, but he puts his arms around Tryst’s shoulders just the same.

     “I stole back a pair of cuffs from your stash too,” Tryst admits. Leenik flicks a finger at his ear. “Hey!”

     “You can’t have those back until you convince me you can be responsible with them!”

     “I will be very convincing, I learned how to be handcuffed from an expert.”

     Leenik winks and motions back toward the ship. "You should put your credits where your mouth is."

     Tryst takes his hand. "I'll put my mouth where your mouth is. On purpose." Just to be clear.

     On the hand-in-hand walk back to the _Mynock_ Tryst stomach growls for real, this time. He’d been so busy being sneaky while everyone else was doing lunch he forgot to eat. Leenik elbows him.

     “Too bad you took so long letting a monster push you off a cliff. Tamlin made star shaped pizza muffins but there’s probably only weird trapezoids left now.”

     Tryst looks back at Leenik, who is all the perks and good things he could reasonably expect for the rest of his life rolled into one. “That’s okay. He was in on this whole thing. The kid deserves dibs on the good pizzas.”

     "Then you should have asked him where _Nights in Rodia_ is set," says Leenik. "He would have known."

-

     "Are they too tight?”  
  
     "I'm not trying to get _them_ off."

     "I'll be remembering that when we’re back at the pun jar.”

     “If you can still remember it by the time we’re back in the kitchen- I haven’t sufficiently smooched your brains out, and I deserve it.”

     “Tryst jar, too.”

     “Whatever. I’ll probably just raid it to buy you a new whip anyway.”

     “ _Exactly_.”

     

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I hang out on twitter @stitchyarts where I do art and post pretty much all Star Wars, and lots of Campaign :)


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